40. Kira
Chapter 40
Kira
THE NEXT BEST GANDER
T he necklace is exactly where I buried it.
The delicate golden butterfly winks at me in the dim glow of the streetlamp on the far side of the garden walls. I run my dirt-streaked fingers over its delicate wings.
I should feel something, shouldn’t I? But my chest is as empty as the night sky. It’s just cold metal, this necklace, no different from the garden spade I used to unearth it. I pile dirt back in the hole, toss a handful of straw over it, then come to my feet and cross my arms over my chest.
It’s cold already. My breath forms a cloud in the soft glow of the streetlamps. On the far side of the garden wall, hooves rattle and a cart creaks as someone makes their way home for the night.
Dame Serena told me I’m welcome to stay, just like that. Not for the night or until I felt better. I’m welcome to stay, period, for as long as I want. I could spend the evening, or spend the rest of my life here, working in the garden, managing the pantry, wiping noses and telling stories about orphan children who discover their parents were magical.
It wouldn’t be a bad life, staying here in the orphanage. It would certainly be better than sneaking through the Towers in the dark, searching for records of parents who don’t exist.
But Fyrris would find me. A dog barks in the distance; I shiver. Benja told me to take as much time as I need. Still, that doesn’t mean forever. Fyrris might not miss me for a few weeks, possibly even a handful of months. But if I tried to stay here for years? I swallow hard as I tuck the golden necklace into my vest, close to my heart. There’s more to it than being afraid of Fyrris, with his stupid lies and threats.
Reznyk was kind to me. He told me the truth, even though he knew exactly who I am, where I came from, and what I was doing.
And I thought he was safe. I thought the Towers were done with him.
I creep through the darkened garden on my toes, just like I did when I snuck out to go to the Crown Day festivities. The old apple tree still spreads its limbs against the far garden wall, although by now almost all of its leaves have fallen and the few apples that remain look almost as wrinkled as Dame Serena. Still, the branches feel solid enough to hold my weight.
I climb the old tree to the top of the wall, then drop into the alley below. The sound of my boots against the stone echoes like a firework. I freeze, my breath catching, but the only reply is the scurry of some small creature startled from its hiding place at the far end of the alley. I pull my hood up over my head and leave Silver City’s orphanage for the second time in my life.
The city is quiet by the time I make it to the docks. My heart pounds in the back of my throat, but the fear I’m expecting has yet to show up. I should be afraid, of course. This area isn’t known for being welcoming after dark, and I very much doubt Zayne is completely trustworthy.
I swallow hard as I stare at the round sign featuring an angry goose’s open beak, complete with tiny, serrated teeth. The Next Best Gander, the sign reads in sharp, dark letters. The image isn’t exactly welcoming.
But it’s too late to turn back.
I push the door open. It swings inward with a sigh, revealing a dimly lit room filled with rough-hewn tables and chairs. There’s a bar on the far side, and a hearth with a low, flickering fire. At first, I think the room might be empty. Then I see an older woman at the bar watching me closely, two men hunched over tankards by the fire, and a figure in black sitting in the back corner.
Zayne, of course. I take a deep breath and walk toward him. His eyes follow me closely, but he doesn’t move. I stop in front of the table and stare at him. There’s a candle between us. Its weak light sends strange shadows dancing across his pale face. He looks tired, and somehow even more dangerous than he did when he was sitting next to Fyrris, making plans to abduct a noblewoman.
“Well,” I announce. “I’m here.”
Zayne raises an eyebrow. I feel like a complete idiot.
“Have a seat,” Zayne says, gesturing toward the chair in front of me like he’s offering me something.
I collapse into it. Zayne taps his finger on the table and stares at me like he’s expecting something. Payment, probably. I tuck my fingers into my vest and feel the hard edge of the butterfly’s golden wing.
“I’ve got a question for you,” he says.
I pull the necklace from my vest and slide it across the table. It’s not as beautiful as it once was, not in this low light. Gods above, please let it be enough.
“Payment,” I whisper.
The corner of Zayne’s mouth curls up. He covers the necklace with his hand, and then it’s gone, just like a magician’s trick.
“Appreciated,” he says. “But that’s not my question.”
“So?” I say.
My heart is beating like a bird trapped in a cage. Zayne crosses his arms over the table and leans forward, his strange, green eyes on mine.
“Why?” Zayne says.
I blink. He grins at me in a way that makes me feel like he’s indulging me. Suddenly, I’m remembering that I did promise myself I’d punch this bastard the next time I saw him.
“Why what?” I snap.
He leans back in his chair. “Why go back to the Daggers? You forgot something up there, sweetheart?”
“Fuck you,” I reply.
He grins at me. “That’s not usually how someone asks for my help, you know.”
“You broke my ankle,” I say.
“And you came back to the Towers.”
I huff, then stare at the rough wooden table and the empty place where the golden butterfly necklace just vanished.
“I made a mistake,” I admit.
Zayne makes a purring noise in the back of his throat. “Nothing wrong with that,” he says. “Although most people can’t bring themselves to admit it. You going to fix it?”
I nod. My eyes sting, but my gods, I am not going to cry here. I’ve cried enough. Now it’s time to do something about the mess I made.
“I’m going to try,” I whisper.
“Good enough,” Zayne says.
His hand floats over the table again. When he pulls it back, there’s a smooth wooden disc in the place where I put the golden necklace.
“Some of my clients are bringing a shipment to Cairncliff,” he says, in a low voice. “They’re looking to avoid undue attention, so they’re traveling to Deep’s Crossing, then taking the road past the Daggers.”
I keep my damn mouth shut, although I wonder what he means by my clients . Is he talking about the Mercenary Guild, or does Zayne have some side business that’s even worse than murdering people for money?
“They can get you as far as the road to the Golden Peaks,” he says, glancing up to meet my gaze. “Can you make it from there?”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip. That road was pretty straightforward, right? I’d remember if there were any major turns, wouldn’t I?
“Sure,” I say.
“One more thing,” Zayne adds. “If you see any friends there, tell them I say hello.”
“What the?—”
“Great,” Zayne continues, cutting me off with a wide smile that does nothing to help my confidence. “You’ll need this.”
He pulls something out from under the seat at his side and hands it to me. It’s a dark pack, like the one I carried on our first expedition into the Daggers. I take it, and I have just enough sense not to paw through it while sitting in the middle of the Next Best Gander.
“And this,” Zayne continues, picking up the wooden disc and pressing it into my palm. “Find the Maiden’s Revenge . She’s small, dark, and low to the water. She’s leaving at first light. Give this to the captain. He’ll take care of the rest.”
The wooden disc feels strangely cold against my skin. I stare at Zayne as my body cycles through every single emotion I’ve ever experienced in a mad hurricane of panic and second thoughts. The fire of terror, the brittle frost of fear, and finally the hollow, empty feeling that’s lived inside my chest ever since I stumbled into the Golden Peaks Hunting Lodge with that damned amulet in my hands.
In the end, I just feel tired. I shake Zayne’s hand, walk to the docks, and let strange hands tug me onto a low barge that stinks of fish and unwashed bodies.